


Cup Ramen and Orange Soda

by misato



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, M/M, Shameless Smut, bottom!yuuri, but that may change, somehow thats not the first time i've used that tag, the opposite of slow burn bc i am impatient as fuck, trust me at some point viktor's gonna eat yuuri's ass i'm sorry i gotta put it in every fic, two cute guys meet at a grocery store on christmas eve, viktor spelled with a k because fight me, viktor's an actor in this au and yet it's yuuri who likes to put on a show, way way way too many references to musicals. sorry im gay what did u expect, what happens next may warm your heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9099937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misato/pseuds/misato
Summary: When he reaches his apartment, he unpacks the groceries and finds something written on the back of the receipt in neat, perfect handwriting.It’s a phone number and a note underneath, reading:‘Text me! - Viktor Nikiforov’Yuuri texts him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oh my lord i haven't started a chapter fic in ages but may viktor bless my soul and allow me to finish this one

Yuuri Katsuki’s breath goes visible in the frigid winter air as he steps out of his car and locks it behind him.

The grocery store parking lot’s a mess on Christmas Eve; everyone’s rushing to buy gingerbread and candy canes and cookie cutters shaped like Rudolph, but Yuuri just wants a goddamn cup of instant ramen. 

Okay, so he’s spending Christmas alone.

His entire family’s back in Japan, and here he is in the suburbs of the United States, trying to buy himself a pathetic Christmas Eve lunch.

He shoves the keys into his jacket pocket and heads into the crowd.

He sighs at the warmth as the automatic doors slide open, and winces at the noise before attempting to weave his way around the clusters of people.

He doesn’t even bother with a cart, he just grabs a four-pack of cup ramen and a bottle of orange soda and heads for the nearest register, hoping the wait won’t be too bad. 

It’s a mistake. Honestly, he could’ve ordered his ramen on Amazon and it would’ve been faster. He swears he’s waited more than three business days by the time he gets to the front of the line.

He places his items on the conveyor belt with a scowl, and the cashier smiles brightly.

He’s got silvery blonde hair that can’t possibly be natural, and it looks so sleek. He finds himself staring at the way his bangs fall gently against his cheek, and before he knows what’s happening, they’re making full-on eye contact with each other, stunning blue gazing into warm brown.

Yuuri reads his nametag, his lips trying to form the unfamiliar sounds that make up the man’s name.

“Viktor Nikiforov,” he whispers, testing it out, and then he actually squeaks, because _ oh shit, he didn’t mean to say that out loud at all. _

“That’s me,” the cashier says, smiling as if this sort of thing happens daily.

“S-sorry,” Yuuri stutters, and Viktor shrugs, but he actually seems sort of...pleased?

“Do you live in my building?” he asks, scanning the package of ramen he’s holding. “I think I’ve seen you around.”

“I just moved in,” Yuuri replies, blushing.

“So did I! Makes for a lonely holiday, doesn’t it? Maybe we should meet up and eat…” He stares at the items he’s bagging. “Cup ramen and orange soda? Is this how Americans celebrate Christmas?”

“I actually moved from Japan, so I have no idea,” Yuuri says, embarrassed. “But no, I just don’t have anyone to have dinner with.”

“I’d have dinner with you,” Viktor blurts out, as if that’s a normal thing to say, as if he doesn’t even care that he’s holding up an entire line of suburban bottle-blonde women in their forties.

Yuuri just blushes and hands him a twenty dollar bill. Their hands brush as Viktor hands him the change, and he wonders if maybe the temperature inside the store has been turned up to one million degrees, because he feels very hot all of a sudden.

“Receipt’s in the bag,” Viktor says, and Yuuri takes it and heads out to his car without looking back.

When he reaches his apartment, he unpacks the groceries and finds something written on the back of the receipt in neat, perfect handwriting.

It’s a phone number and a note underneath, reading:

_ ‘Text me! - Viktor Nikiforov’ _

Yuuri texts him. 

Not immediately, of course.

He waits an obligatory three hours.

He’s heard most people wait three days, but Yuuri isn’t that patient.

He makes his ramen, sips his orange soda, and decides to send something safe.  _ This is Yuuri.  _

Oh, wait. Viktor doesn’t know his name.

_ From the grocery store. _

Viktor replies within a minute.  _ Hi!!! Do you want to have dinner this week? I’m sorry for not asking you for your number in the conventional way, but that line of customers was glaring at me for even striking up a friendly conversation.  _

Yuuri laughs lightly, because he hadn’t even thought about how weird it was to get a phone number on your grocery store receipt. He was more interested in the intriguing color of the other man’s hair, the sharpness of his jaw, the brightness of those blue eyes.  _ I can do dinner. You still free Christmas Day? If you’re not busy, I can cook? _

Viktor sends back:  _ Cook what, instant ramen? ;) _

_ I can cook when I try.  _ There’s a blush rising in Yuuri’s face.

_ I look forward to it.  _ Viktor Nikiforov, with his fancy name and his fancy hair, looks forward to meeting him for Christmas dinner.

Yuuri gives him his address, and Viktor had been right, they did live in the same building. He isn’t sure if this is a blessing or a curse.

Yuuri goes to a different store to pick up the ingredients that afternoon, worrying that he might run into Viktor, though the other man is probably off work by now.

He wonders if it’s too forward to pick up a package of condoms and a bottle of lube.

He’s twenty-one years old, he tells himself. Plenty of people his age have sex. If they get to that point tomorrow night, he should be prepared. Better safe than sorry.

And if Yuuri ends up getting fucked into the sheets later, he knows he’ll be anything but sorry.

He puts them in the cart along with the rest of his ingredients, and goes to the self checkout lane.

He feels like alarms should go off when he scans the box of condoms, but no one even looks at him twice.

It’s nearly six o’clock when he gets home, so he makes a box of macaroni and cheese and eats half of it, shoving the rest into the fridge. 

Then he takes a shower. 

Then he jacks off.

That’s one thing he appreciates being able to do now that he lives alone.

He never really did it before he moved to America, but these past two weeks have been filled with research on  _ how exactly gay guys had sex.  _ And a lot of cleared search histories.

Yuuri wasn’t stupid, of course, he knew the mechanics, but he never knew how good it could feel to have something up your ass until just recently.

He’s decidedly a bottom. He likes the idea of being full.

And now, he’s kneeling on the bed, one hand between his thighs, one reaching back to press decidedly against his hole, and Viktor’s face pops into his head.

He immediately feels guilty.

Most of his fantasies are faceless; he conjures up pornographic images of guys of all shapes and sizes (and sometimes girls), but he’s never been the type to jack off to someone he knows. It feels wrong.

But does he  _ know  _ Viktor?

Sure, they’re meeting up tomorrow, but for what? A dinner date, a hookup? Nothing real.

And so it’s okay to imagine Viktor lowering his mouth onto his cock, to think of him when he shoves two, three, four fingers up his ass, to bite the pillow to keep from screaming out his name. Because none of this is real.

Right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i can't restrain myself, this chapter is literally full of sin, i'm sorry

Viktor Nikiforov sings in the shower. It’s not the worst habit in the world, but he’s certain he’s got a bunch of resentful neighbors out to get him already. 

Still, that doesn’t stop him from belting out half the Hamilton soundtrack while he conditions his hair. 

And then his mind drifts elsewhere as his hands trail down from his neck to his chest to his-

_ Oh. _

Viktor closes his eyes and fists his cock, gasping out into the steamy warmth of the shower.

He hasn’t had a good fuck since he moved into this apartment. He thinks he deserves one. It’s his birthday, after all. It’s not like he was getting a whole lot of gay action back in Russia, but he’s lived in America for years and he’s appreciated the sluttiness that New York City brought out in him. 

But now he’s stuck working a barely-landed acting gig at a Shakespeare company, not to mention his shitty side job. All the male actors in the show are hopelessly heterosexual, and all the customers at the grocery store are typical middle-aged women. Except…

“Yuuri,” Viktor murmurs.

Such a pretty name, one that’s been stuck in the back of Viktor’s mind all morning. He tastes his on his lips, bites it back as he moves his hand languidly over his cock.

He pictures those flushed cheeks, those dark, deep eyes, that tousled hair. He wants to kiss Yuuri’s pretty little mouth, wants to smooth his thumb over that ever-quivering lip. He wants to take him apart and calm him down. He seemed so flustered, Viktor just wanted to wrap his arms around him until he stopped trembling.

He works his cock faster, picturing Yuuri riding him like he’s aching for it.

And then,  _ oh _ , his mind is wicked, because he remembers the way Yuuri had said his name, soft and sweet under his breath.

At that, he comes.

The guilt swirls down the drain.

It’s a shame that Yuuri met him as a cashier, really. His uniform is drab and boring, and Viktor isn’t even sure he brushed his hair properly that morning, and he hopes he can appear a lot more charming tonight.

Maybe he’ll get Yuuri to come see him on opening night.

He’s been cast as Mercutio in a production of Romeo and Juliet, and his costume for that is absolutely spectacular. It’s simply covered in glitter, and it shimmers as Viktor walks; with loose hips and a swaying waist, he’s going to capture the heart of every man in the audience. 

Maybe he’ll capture Yuuri’s heart first.

-

Yuuri Katsuki frowns at himself in the mirror and runs a hand through his hair. It’s slicked back, and he’s wearing contacts. He looks hot, for sure. But he doesn’t look effortless. He doesn’t look casual. He practically has ‘FUCK ME’ written across his forehead.

But perhaps that’s the impression he wants to give off.

It’s not like this is a romantic date.

He’s honestly just trying to get laid.

The thought makes him blush.

If you’d told him a week ago that he was going to try to get with a cashier he met at a grocery store, he would’ve accused you of lying.

But here he is, investing in condoms and hair gel.

It’s not a romantic date.

It isn’t.

At least, not until Viktor shows up with roses.

-

“U-um!” Yuuri stutters, his face fifteen different shades of pink.

Viktor shoves the bouquet of flowers into his arms, the plastic crinkling softly.

“I don’t have a vase,” Yuuri confesses, as if _ that’s _ the problem with this situation.

“Ah, that's all right,” Viktor smiles. 

Yuuri places the roses carefully on the coffee table; they’re red and yellow - in Japan, red roses are for love, and yellow roses are for jealousy, but Yuuri doesn’t say that out loud.

What would Viktor be jealous of? They hardly know each other.

“It smells good,” Viktor says, and Yuuri remembers himself and dashes into the small kitchen, nearly slipping on the tile.

Fortunately, nothing is overcooked, and after a few minutes, he has two warm pork cutlet bowls ready to go.

He hopes Viktor doesn’t think he’s weird for cooking something so foreign, but it’s his favorite food, after all, and he finally had an excuse to make it.

“What is this?” Viktor says, when he sets down the dishes, and it’s not derisive, it’s an earnest question.

“Katsudon,” Yuuri says, the word familiar on his tongue. “It’s a pork cutlet bowl,” he explains, and Viktor nods.

They both dig in, and Viktor gasps - a sound that Yuuri didn’t think he’d be hearing so early in the night.

“Vkusno,” he murmurs, and Yuuri blushes at the way he says it, even though he’s got no clue what it means. “You’re a good chef, Yuuri. Don’t waste your time on cup ramen.”

It’s a real compliment, Yuuri can tell, and it embarrasses him to no end.

“I-I’m really not that good,” he manages.

“You’re incredible,” Viktor says firmly. 

And,  _ oh _ , he didn’t mean to get romantic, but the way Viktor meets his eyes makes him shiver from head to toe. His eyes are clear blue, like a summer sky, like the soft feathered wing of a bird, like a vibrant flower. It’s the kind of gaze you can get lost in, and Yuuri does, effortlessly.

“Thinking about something?” Viktor teases.

“Sorry,” Yuuri says, nearly upsetting his water glass, and Viktor laughs.

“No, it’s okay. You wanna watch a movie, or something?”

Yuuri realizes that they’re both finished eating, so he clears the table and leads Viktor to the couch.

He flips through Netflix, wondering if it’d be too forward to click on the “Gay and Lesbian” section, but Viktor spots him lingering on it anyway.

“We should watch Rent,” he says. 

“Okay,” Yuuri says. “I’ve never seen it.”

_ “What?” _ Viktor is obviously shocked. “It’s a cinematic masterpiece. And I’m going to sing along to it.”

This makes Yuuri’s heart race; the thought of Viktor  _ singing _ is probably too much for him to handle, but the other man’s already stolen the remote and pressed play.

Yuuri barely makes it through the first five minutes before he finds himself mesmerized by Viktor’s voice; smooth and sultry and... _ damn _ .

He doesn’t watch the movie, he watches Viktor’s mouth move and his hips sway, and they’re not even halfway through the movie before Viktor notices.

“Like something you see?” he says, voice dripping with something sweet and dark.

“Yeah,” Yuuri breathes.

“You wanna see more?”

“Yeah,” he bites his lip. “I do.”

And then another song is starting, and it’s beginning to sound dangerously sexy; it’s almost as if Viktor planned for this to happen..

Viktor tilts his head back and tosses his hair before belting the first line like he means it.

“What's the time? Well, it's gotta be close to midnight,” he purrs, cocking his hip.

And then,  _ oh _ , then he’s getting what he thinks could be considered a lap dance, from Viktor fucking Nikiforov, the cashier he met at his local grocery store.

“Let’s go out tonight!” he sings, the sound clear and bright in the dim apartment.

He’s finished the chorus when he leans in, brushing his lips against Yuuri’s ear and gasping out:

_ “Meow.” _

Yuuri isn’t sure if he’s going to come in his pants or die of embarrassment, but Viktor just winks and continues to sing, like it’s no big deal that Yuuri’s literally rock hard.

As Viktor breathes out the last note, he reaches for the remote and clicks the pause button with flair.

“Sorry,” Viktor chuckles, his voice a little hoarse. “I get into character far too easily.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says. “Are you an actor?”

“Yeah,” Viktor sighs, plunking onto the couch beside Yuuri. “I’m in a show right now, actually.”

“What show?” Yuuri says, trying to will his erection away.

“Romeo and Juliet,” Viktor says. “But I think you’d rather be talking about something else, hm?”

“What?”

“Maybe,” and then his hand is creeping up Yuuri’s inner thigh, fingers tracing invisible patterns through his skinny jeans. “This?”

Yuuri gasps as Viktor’s hand brushes his cock, and the man smirks.

“You want me to blow you?”

“I have condoms,” Yuuri says stupidly.

“Oh,” Viktor says, and then. “ _ Oh _ .”

He leans in close.

“You wanna get fucked, huh?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri whispers. “I thought about it, last night.”

Viktor gasps.

“I thought about you fucking me good and deep. Can you do that?”

“Fuck,” Viktor moans. “Yeah, I’ll do it, anything for you, baby.”

Yuuri has no idea what he’s saying, the lust has gone to his head and he’s suddenly ten times more confident than he was two hours ago. 

But Viktor seems to like it.

Viktor seems to like him.

“Stop thinking so much,” the man in question says, and kisses him.

And,  _ oh _ , that really doesn’t help at all, because now a thousand thoughts are running through Yuuri’s mind, but he just lets his eyelids slip shut as Viktor claims his mouth.

Yuuri’s not typically a dominant kisser, but he finds himself responding in kind to each and every motion that Viktor makes with his tongue.

His  _ tongue _ . Yuuri wants that tongue in unholy places.

“Are we going to do this on the couch, or-” Viktor trails off.

“No, I have a bed,” Yuuri says automatically, and  _ could he have said anything more stupid?  _ “I mean, the bedroom is, um, c’mere.”

He takes Viktor by the hand (not thinking about the fact that he’s offered to fuck the man before they even held hands in the first place) and leads him down the hallway, which seems so much longer than usual, because he just wants to get into bed,  _ now _ .

And before he knows it, they collapse onto the sheets, fumbling with clothing and making out like they’d die if they stopped.

It takes Yuuri about five tries to successfully take his shirt off, because Viktor won’t stop kissing him senseless.

Viktor pulls his sweater over his head, and Yuuri suddenly feels self conscious, because his abdomen certainly isn’t that toned; in fact, he’s gained weight recently, and-

Viktor’s kissing him. His mouth, his neck, his chest, his stomach.

He doesn’t leave any marks, but Yuuri sort of wants him to.

They’ll save that for next time.

_ Will there be a next time? _ Yuuri wonders, but that thought is cut off by Viktor undoing the zipper to his jeans with his teeth.

There’s no sexy way to take off skinny jeans, but Viktor watches aptly as Yuuri wriggles out of them, like it’s the hottest thing in the world.

“ _ Oh _ ,” Viktor moans softly. “Your thighs are fucking delicious, Yuuri.”

He’s kissing them, biting them, practically worshipping them, and Yuuri can’t get enough of it.

And then,  _ finally _ , he tugs down Yuuri’s boxer briefs and kisses his cock wetly.

“You said you thought about me fucking you,” he murmurs, the words vibrating against his cock warmly. “What did you think about?”

Yuuri’s not experienced with any form of dirty talk, but he’s in too deep to stop now, so he tells him.

“Thought about…” he gasps as Viktor mouths over the head. “You sucking me off, and then…”

“And then what?” Viktor pulls off, his breath ghosting over his cock.

“And then,” Yuuri presses a hand over his face to hide his blush. “You fucking me until I s-screamed.”

Viktor actually whimpers, and lowers his mouth onto Yuuri’s cock. Yuuri wonders where he got so good at this, and he wonders if Viktor can tell he’s a virgin.

Would Viktor be upset if he knew? Would he be hesitant?

It’s sort of a big confession to make when Yuuri has seemed so confident all night.

He’s jarred from his thoughts by Viktor’s tongue, hot and wet, moving expertly over his cock and making him, close, closer, closest-

“Stop!” Yuuri cries, and Viktor pulls off, blue eyes stormy and worried. “I was gonna come. I didn’t want to. Yet.”

Viktor nods.

“How do you want to do this?” he asks.

“I wanna bottom,” Yuuri says, and that’s all he knows. “Let me get condoms and lube.”

He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out the box and the lubricant.

“It’s not open,” Viktor comments.

“What?”

“The box isn’t open,” he says and Yuuri freezes. “Have you ever done this before, Yuuri?”

Yuuri’s heart pounds.

“No,” he confesses, his voice small.

“Are you sure you want this?”

Viktor seems genuinely concerned for him, and Yuuri doesn’t know why. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri breathes. “Yeah, I do.”

“Okay,” Viktor smiles softly and presses a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead. “Tell me if I’m going too fast, alright?”

“I will,” Yuuri says honestly.

He sets the box of condoms and the bottle of lube onto the bed and sighs in relief.

“The lube is open, though,” Viktor notices. “Do you…”

“Do I what?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor’s eyes are dark and lustful.

“Do you finger yourself, Yuuri?”

He nods, blushing.

“Can I watch?”

“Y-yeah.”

Yuuri spreads his legs and coats his hand with lube before pressing two fingers against his hole.

They go in easily.

He finds his prostate without much trouble and chokes back a gasp.

He adds three fingers, then four, but it’s not enough, and he feels himself aching for more as his fingers slip out.

“I’m ready, Viktor.”

Viktor tears open the box of condoms and puts one on before slicking his cock with lube.

“Yuuri…” he says, his voice deep and hoarse. “Would you ride me?”

“Yes,” Yuuri groans, and then they’ve switched places on the bed, Viktor laying back and Yuuri hovering nervously over his cock.

He lowers himself down slowly. Viktor’s eyes fly shut.

“No,” he says, and Viktor opens them. “I want you to keep your eyes on me the whole time.”

He doesn’t know where that came from, but Viktor certainly seems to like it, because he’s watching Yuuri intently as he rides his cock.

He starts out languid and sweet, testing out the feel of it.

“Can I go faster?” he asks, and Viktor chuckles lightly.

“You’re in control, baby.”

He smirks (Yuuri didn’t even know he had it in himself to smirk), and slams down onto Viktor’s cock, hitting his prostate just right.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he cries. “Viktor, oh my God.”

Viktor tips his head back and says something very fast in Russian.

“What did you say about me?” Yuuri pants.

“Nothing,” Viktor grins.

_ Two can play at that game _ , Yuuri thinks.

“You’re an amazing singer, Viktor, and I want to hear your voice forever,” he moans in Japanese.

“I love the way you say my name,” Viktor says, in English this time. “That’s what I said.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri cries, his voice breaking. “Viktor, Viktor, Viktor.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor gasps, and then he comes.

Yuuri pulls off and kneels over Viktor, sliding a slick hand over his cock.

“Come on my face,” Viktor gasps, and then Yuuri does.

White drips over one perfect cheekbone, and Viktor wipes at it with his hand before pressing two fingers to his lips.

“Vkusno,” he says, and Yuuri blushes.

They lay there for a few minutes, satiated by sex and too exhausted to move, until Viktor rolls off the bed and stalks off to the bathroom to clean himself up. When he gets back, he picks up his shirt, starting to tug it over his head.

“No,” Yuuri says, and Viktor looks at him questioningly. “Stay.”

Viktor grins brightly.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do y'all want more?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another one

When Yuuri Katsuki wakes up, it’s absolutely freezing in his apartment, and he would probably be shivering if not for the fact that Viktor Nikiforov is practically wrapped around his torso.

The man’s breath is warm against his neck, and Yuuri snuggles into the blankets and closes his eyes.

He lost his virginity. To Viktor Nikiforov. 

It’s so unreal that he peeks off the corner of the bed, and yep, there it is, an opened box of condoms sitting not-so-innocently on the floor.

He sighs, and Viktor shifts on the bed, nuzzling closer so that his hips align with Yuuri’s upper thigh ( _ oh _ , he remembers Viktor calling them  _ delicious _ , and blushes in the dim light).

And then he realizes...something is pressing against his hip.

Viktor nestles into his shoulder and grinds down, hard.

“Viktor,” Yuuri whispers, and Viktor mumbles something in Russian that sounds suspiciously like a stream of curses.

Viktor yawns, then blinks his eyes open, and then he grins lazily.

“Morning, sunshine,” he breathes, and Yuuri kisses him.

It’s a good kiss; they aren’t rushed or desperate like they’d been last night. Viktor’s the one to break it.

“Thank you,” he says, smiling like he always does, and Yuuri’s confused.

“For what?”

“That was the nicest birthday I’ve ever had.”

“W-what? Yesterday was-”

“Yeah,” Viktor says, and kisses Yuuri’s cheek before letting his eyes fall shut again.

“But I didn’t give you anything! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Yuuri,” Viktor looks at him, dead serious. “Trust me, you gave me something.”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

“Would you still be opposed to a late birthday gift?” Yuuri asks carefully.

“And what would that be?”

Yuuri’s gazes flicks down to where the thin blanket tents, and smiles.

“I mean, I’ve never…but...”

“Never what?”

He meets Viktor’s strong gaze.

“Never sucked dick.”

Viktor isn’t fazed in the slightest, save for the pink rising in his cheeks that Yuuri never thought he’d see.

This time they move slowly; Yuuri tugs the blanket down and watches Viktor shiver from the chill. But that doesn’t last long, because pretty soon he’s kissing him  _ everywhere _ , his mouth open and wet and warm.

Yuuri goes to bite down on his collarbone and Viktor pushes him away gently.

“I’m in a show, remember? Can’t have you marking me up like that.”

Yuuri nods, embarrassed, but kisses instead over his toned stomach, his taut thighs; Viktor’s perfect, so perfect that it kills him.

But then his gaze rests on Viktor’s cock, thick and hard and beautiful, and his first thought is:

_ Oh, fuck. _

Viktor catches him staring, and attempts to reassure him.

“Don’t take it all in at once,” he says, as if it’s normal to be giving Yuuri blowjob tips right before he goes down on him. “Use your hand if you have to.”

Yuuri finds himself nodding and slipping onto the floor as Viktor moves towards the edge of the bed, spreading his legs and beginning to lie back.

“Please-” Yuuri says before he can stop himself. “Please look at me.”

Viktor does.

Yuuri slowly runs one hand over Viktor’s erection and tentatively lowers the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue in a way that he  _ thinks  _ might be a good idea,  _ maybe _ ? 

It is, because Viktor’s thighs tremble. Yuuri glances up at him, lips stretched wide around his cock, and makes perfect, unshaken eye contact.

Viktor has to catch his breath.

At some point Yuuri loses himself in the motion; he forgets that his knees sort of ache and his mouth is kind of full and his gag reflex is being a total bitch; all he can focus on are Viktor’s moans, breathy and light in the crisp air.

“You’re doing so good, so good, Yuuri,” Viktor murmurs, and his hands fly to Yuuri’s tangled hair.

Yuuri pulls off for a moment, gasping obscenely, his lips pink and wet.

“Can you do it in my mouth, Viktor?”

And Viktor nods as Yuuri manages to fit his cock down his throat, swallowing thickly around it.

He pulls back as Viktor comes, stroking him gently and opening his mouth wide.

The taste is unusual as it hits his tongue, but it isn’t bad.

“Vkusno,” Yuuri says, repeating what Viktor had said last night, and Viktor yelps in surprise before tilting his head back and laughing.

“That means delicious,” he tells Yuuri between giggles.

Yuuri fights his blush, but loses the battle.

“You’re so cute,” Viktor says, and Yuuri kisses him. “What time is it?”

Yuuri checks his phone.

“Ten,” he says, and Viktor curses. 

“I have to go,” and then he’s putting on clothes in a blur. “Rehearsal starts soon, I’ll text you, though. Promise.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says, but Viktor’s already gone.

-

Viktor doesn’t text him that night. Or the next night either.

Yuuri tries to stop thinking about him.

But Viktor remains in the back of his mind as a constant; when his thoughts are at rest, he remembers the feeling of those lips on his.

By the end of the week, though, it slips his mind, and on the morning of New Year’s Eve, he goes to the grocery store. All he’s trying to do is pick up random items that he’s out of, like milk and shampoo and.. _.cup ramen _ .

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” Yuuri swears out loud as he tosses the last item into the cart, and a mother scowls at him and pulls away her five year old by the hand.

He heads towards the front of the store, head down, but when he glances up, there he is.

Viktor’s standing at an open register with no line, and Yuuri prays he doesn’t see him, hopes he doesn’t wave him over, wishes that he would just drop dead in the middle of-

“Yuuri!” Viktor literally yells his name, and Yuuri tries his best to act like he didn’t hear.

But Viktor is relentless, and so he picks up the intercom and says:

“Yuu-ri,” he drags out his name, and it echoes throughout the store.

Not that many people are in there on New Year’s Eve, but they still chuckle as Yuuri turns bright red and pushes his cart defeatedly towards the register.

“Hi,” he says, and Viktor grins.

“Hi, Yuuri.”

Viktor looks positively shimmery, even in the fluorescent lighting, and it makes Yuuri feel stupid in his hoodie and sweatpants.

“Why didn’t you text me?” Yuuri asks, and even though he’s trying to sound casual, it comes out whiny and obsessive, and he cringes at his own words.

But Viktor suddenly looks very, very distraught.

He waits for Viktor to smile again, to tell him a joke, to tease him about worrying so much, but his face just crumples.

It’s uncomfortable.

Yuuri doesn’t know what to do.

“I forgot, didn’t I? I always forget to keep promises. I kept meaning to text, but everything I was going to send seemed stupid. I swear I typed out a hundred messages to you, and none of them sounded right. And now it’s nearly been a week, hasn’t it? I’m sorry, Yuuri.”

Viktor remembers himself and starts scanning and bagging the items, not making eye contact with Yuuri. He looks anxious.

“Viktor, it’s okay,” Yuuri says, softly, and then he reaches over the counter and takes Viktor’s hand to stop it from trembling.

“I’m so overworked,” he whispers. “During rehearsal, all I can think about is you. And you wanna know the worst part?”

He meets Yuuri’s eyes.

“It helps. I think about your smile, or your blush, or your  _ katsudon _ , and I lose myself in the character. I do it perfectly, every time.”

“Oh, Viktor,” Yuuri says, and that’s all he knows how to say, because he’s never been the kind of person that people hold onto before.

Viktor shakes his head and laughs a little, putting a grin back on his face, but the dark circles under his eyes are daunting, and Yuuri still hasn’t let go of his hand.

“Yuuri, when I slept over…”

He trails off.

“That was the best night’s sleep I’d had in weeks.”

Yuuri’s heart pounds, like it does whenever he wants to say something reckless.

“Come over tonight then,” he says, and lets go of Viktor’s hand.

Viktor smiles, for real this time.

“I’ll bring every movie musical I have. Have you seen the new Rocky Horror yet?”

“I haven’t even seen the original.”

Viktor prints his receipt and puts it in the bag.

“I missed you,” he says, looking vulnerable.

“I missed you too, Viktor.”

When Yuuri leaves, he wonders if this is what love feels like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweats nervously* im also trying to get yet another chapter in by tonight...two chapters in one day, can i do it??
> 
> ps: how would u guys feel if i added some praise kink + top yuuri in the future?? yes, no, maybe so?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unfortunately i didn't get this out before midnight, but happy new year's eve/new year anyway!!!!!! 
> 
> fun fact: yuuri has blushed over ten million times over the course of this fanfiction
> 
> another fun fact: this is the chapter with rimming. sorry mom

Viktor brings Yuuri yellow tulips and primroses that night (which represent one-sided love and desperation, he thinks privately), and he puts them beside the withering roses on the coffee table.

“Thank you,” Yuuri says, no longer as easily reduced to a blushing mess, and he leans in and kisses Viktor on the mouth, sweet and lingering.

He kisses him like he’d kiss a boyfriend.

Or so he assumes.

Yuuri’s never had a boyfriend.

He had a girlfriend once in middle school, but it only lasted a week, and he’d only said yes because he didn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t like making people upset.

He had crushes on several boys in high school, but they were sweet and fleeting; he’d love one of them for a week and move on to the next. He never thought he’d ever have a chance with a guy.

And now everything is happening to him all at once.

He decides it’s kind of weird that he’s getting anxious about things turning romantic when he’s literally sucked the guy’s dick.

So Yuuri pushes his nervousness aside and pulls Viktor to the couch.

“Did you bring…” He tries to recall the name of the movie Viktor mentioned. “Rocky Horror?”

“No,” Viktor smiles. “It’s pretty risque. I thought we’d start with Chicago.”

He reaches into his bag for the DVD.

“I’ve seen it,” Yuuri says. “But it’s good, I wanna watch it again.”

The movie starts, and after a while, he notices that Viktor isn’t singing.

“Sing,” he murmurs, after Roxie finishes killing her boyfriend, scooting closer to him and snuggling into his shoulder.

Viktor shakes his head. “Only if you sing for me first.”

“W-what? I’m not good, though.”

“I want to hear you, Yuuri,” Viktor says in his darkest voice.

“Ah, I mean, okay,” Yuuri stumbles over the words, wondering how he’ll get through an entire song.

Yuuri’s never really sang in front of anyone before, but he swallows hard, opens his mouth, and softly sings the opening lines to _ Funny Honey _ . His voice breaks a bit, from the nervousness, and he keeps glancing at the subtitles because he doesn’t remember all the lyrics, but Viktor can’t seem to take his eyes off him.

He looks directly at Viktor and tries to make his voice sultry and smoky and breathy.

What is it that Viktor always tries to do?

Lose himself in the character?

He notices the way that Viktor’s looking at him, and  _ oh _ , Yuuri is gone. It’s like a wave of emotion has flooded into him, one that wipes out all his anxiety and replaces it with a perfect mix of seduction and fury; he  _ is  _ Roxie Hart. He doesn’t notice that he’s crying until he hits the last note, loud and clear and unbroken.

Viktor scrambles for the remote and flicks the movie off before pulling Yuuri into a tight, warm embrace. He kisses his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, he kisses away the tears that refuse to cease, and then he kisses his mouth.

It’s the best kiss he’s ever had. He’s only ever kissed Viktor, actually, but this one outshines any fantasies he’s had of kissing stupid straight high school boys. He’s always assumed the concept of ‘sparks flying’ was an exaggeration, but kissing Viktor is like kissing a firework: bright and amazing; it fills his brain with noise. 

“You’re perfect, Yuuri,” Viktor gasps “That was beautiful, I love-”

He stops himself.

“I loved that,” he says, but they both know what Viktor meant to say.

And Yuuri finds that it doesn’t scare him.

Not even a little bit.

Not at all.

“Do you wanna eat something?” he says as Viktor kisses over his neck, because it’s nearing seven o’clock.

Viktor laughs darkly.

“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, yes.”

“I was asking if you wanted food,” Yuuri says, although he doesn't really have anything in his pantry besides ramen.

“Ah,” Viktor says. “That’s a shame.”

“Why?” Yuuri teases.

“Because,” he says. “I was kind of hoping I would get to eat your ass tonight.”

“Oh, God, yes, please,” Yuuri says in one breath, as if he can’t decide which of the four words is most fitting. “I mean, no one’s ever-”

“I know,” Viktor says, his gasp audible in the quiet room as he adjusts himself not-so-surreptitiously. “I want to.”

They almost don’t make it to the bedroom.

They’re an absolute mess; pressing each other against the walls and kissing breathlessly until they forget where they’re going in the first place.

“I could do it right here,” Viktor growls, and  _ fuck _ , he’s just finished sucking a dark bruise into his neck, and Yuuri can't help but feel wanted. “I could spread your legs and eat you out, wet and dirty, in the middle of the hall.”  

But Yuuri just kisses him hard.

It seems like hours before they tumble into the bedroom.

Viktor’s already lost his shirt somewhere along the way, and it only takes a matter of seconds for them both to strip down to nothing. Viktor watches intently as Yuuri slips off his boxer briefs, his eyes steely and pale in the dim light.

“On the bed,” he says. “Hands and knees.”

Yuuri does as he’s told, shivering at Viktor’s tone of voice.

“Good, baby. You're doing so good. Now spread those pretty thighs wide for me.”

Yuuri does, and Viktor hums appreciatively before kneeling between Yuuri’s legs.

“You okay?” Viktor whispers, pressing a sweet kiss to the small of Yuuri’s back.

“I’m more than okay,” Yuuri assures him.

Kisses and bites are scattered over his thighs and ass, and when Viktor presses a wet kiss to his hole, he moans without warning.

“ _ Yes,”  _ Viktor gasps against sensitive flesh, and Yuuri trembles. “Yuuri, your voice is so beautiful, let me hear.”

And Yuuri definitely does.

When that wicked tongue circles his hole and presses gently at the rim before fucking in and out of him, he screams so loud that his neighbors probably know Viktor’s name by heart.

“Lube,” Viktor murmurs against his hip, and Yuuri scrambles for it.

He hears the sound of the bottle pumping once, twice, and then two fingers slowly push into his hole.

“Oh, Yuuri,” he says reverently. “You're a work of art. You open up so perfectly for me.”

Yuuri writhes as Viktor nudges his prostate, and the man laughs softly before scissoring his fingers and licking wetly across his hole.

“ _ Viktor _ ,” Yuuri cries. “Need you.”

“I’m here, baby,” Viktor says, adding a third finger and crooking his hand in a way that nearly makes Yuuri’s knees give out.

“Need your cock, Viktor,” Yuuri breathes, and then Viktor’s the one choking back a moan.

“Tell me what you need,” Viktor says, gently and it’s not a kinky line, it’s more like he genuinely cares about Yuuri’s needs in bed.

“I want you to fuck me into the sheets,” Yuuri says, oh-so-confident, and then Viktor’s the one fumbling for the lube, and he hears the sound of a condom being put on hastily.

Then Viktor shifts on the bed and he’s brushing against Yuuri’s hole, which is ready and open for him, but-

“I wanna be able to see you,” Yuuri blurts out.

Viktor hums in assent, and Yuuri rolls over, opening his legs wide and looking up at his partner with a lust- filled gaze.

They kiss, Yuuri claiming Viktor’s mouth this time, and then tan hands fly to silvery hair as Viktor presses in.

“You’re so perfect,” Viktor says, and he doesn’t let his eyelids flutter shut; he keeps his gaze on Yuuri even as his thrusts grow erratic and shaky.

That blue stare burns over his mouth as moans tumble out, over his neck as his head tips back, over his entire body, really. 

“I’ve wanted you all week,” Viktor gasps. “I missed you so much, I lo-”

He cuts himself off again, but Yuuri meets those dangerous eyes with confidence.

“Say it.”

“ _ I love you _ ,” Viktor gasps, and they come in near perfect unison.

It occurs to Yuuri, after Viktor goes to toss the used condom out, that he didn’t say it back.

-

Yuuri doesn't think about that again until it’s five minutes before midnight.

They spent the hours in between kissing and spooning on Yuuri’s bed, but now they’re standing in the living room half naked, because Viktor insisted they watch some New Year’s Eve countdown on TV.

Viktor’s smiling like a kid as he watches the television light up with music and glitter and joy. Yuuri can’t help but look at him, mesmerized by the hope in his eyes.

The people on television begin counting down, and Yuuri grins at Viktor, because he’s mouthing the numbers along with them.

And then it’s midnight, and Viktor’s staring at him expectantly.

“ _ Well?” _ he says, and Yuuri gives him a confused look. “Aren't you going to kiss me?”

“Oh!” Yuuri says, and then he does.

Their first kiss of the New Year is at 12:01.

It’s nice.

“I-” Yuuri says, and then he shuts his mouth, blushing hard.

He can’t do anything but stutter uselessly as Viktor stalks into his kitchen and starts looking through his fridge.

“You don't have any chocolate milk?” Viktor complains. “But you’ve got three different kinds of yogurt? That’s disgus-”

“I love you,” Yuuri says, all of a sudden.

Viktor just smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha viktor eats ass is my fav headcanon in the entire world i want a t shirt that says 'viktor nikiforov eats ass'


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> every time yuuri blushes this fanfiction gets faster

Viktor wakes up to sunlight streaming through the curtains and Yuuri mumbling something in his sleep. It’s not in English.

Yuuri’s only wearing boxer briefs and a loose T-shirt that slips over one shoulder, and Viktor thinks he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life.

Yuuri curls into the sheets and yawns, his mouth stretching wide.

Viktor nuzzles into his shoulder and wraps a careful arm around his waist, hands brushing soothingly over his stomach and thighs.

“Viktor,” he hears, from the mess of murmuring, and he shivers at the way Yuuri says his name, soft and perfect. 

He hears it again; the other man’s gasping it out like a mantra, the sound muffled into the pillows.

Viktor’s getting hard now, and he stretches lazily across the bed, rolling away from Yuuri.

He slips a hand beneath his own T-shirt and lets his hand play over his abdomen before sliding down, down…

_ Oh. _

If there’s one thing that Viktor loves more than musical theatre and chocolate milk and dogs, it’s sex. He’s so into Yuuri that it might actually kill him; he loves the other man’s blushes and moans, and most of all, the way he sings. He’s a promising actor, which shouldn’t be that sexy, but it is. Viktor wonders what it would be like to perform with him, to feel the tension between their two characters on stage, to sing a duet and let their voices mingle together in harmony. He moans.

Yuuri shifts on the bed, still mumbling something up until the moment he opens his eyes.

He glances around, face flushed and blankets rumpled before his gaze lands on Viktor, with his hand shoved down into his underwear, stroking languidly and moaning Yuuri’s name.

“You didn’t ask me to join you?” he mumbles, teasing with more confidence than Viktor’s ever seen him with.

“Didn’t wanna wake you,” Viktor says, smiling and ceasing his movements for now.

“I’m awake now,” Yuuri says, a yawn breaking through his words and betraying him.

He leans over towards Viktor for a sweet, soft kiss.

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?” Viktor murmurs into his ear when they break apart.

“Oh! Really?” Yuuri says, blushing. “What do I say?”

“No idea,” Viktor says. “But you sounded like you were having a lot of fun.”

Yuuri looks as if he’s going to drop dead right on the spot.

“I was having a dream about you,” he admits softly. 

“What was I doing?”

“A lot,” Yuuri breathes. “But you...your mouth...oh my God, I’m still hard.”

“Do you need me to help with that?” Viktor says, casually, like he’s asking Yuuri if he wants paper or plastic, and Yuuri nods desperately.

Viktor tugs back the sheets, both of them shivering at the loss of warmth, and Yuuri really is hard; his boxer briefs tent beautifully.

“Can I suck you off?” Viktor says, because he really, really wants to; he’s wanted Yuuri’s cock down his throat since the moment he saw him, bright-eyed and blushing, in the line at the grocery store.

Maybe that’s a strange thing to think about when you first meet a person, but Yuuri has an air of sexiness that never goes away, an underlying Eros that burns beneath his skin and sets everyone who he touches on fire. It might be cold, but Yuuri warms him up quickly as Viktor slides between his thick thighs.

He runs his fingers over the stretch marks that adorn his thighs and kisses them as he works his way up to the bulge in Yuuri’s underwear.

Viktor’s been told he’s good at blowjobs, and Yuuri’s cock isn’t the biggest he’s ever seen, but it really is the nicest. He wants to worship it with his mouth.

“So beautiful, Yuuri,” Viktor moans against his crotch, the words vibrating there and making Yuuri tremble.

He kisses over his erection through the fabric, and when he takes Yuuri’s cock out, tugging his underwear over those  _ gorgeous  _ thighs, praise flows from his mouth before he can stop it.

“Fuck, Yuuri, lyubov moya, so hard for me, so pretty.”

His hands are running over Yuuri’s erection and those thighs are shaking already. Moans spill loudly from Yuuri’s lips and Viktor loves it, even though it’s possible that Yuuri’s neighbors absolutely despise the both of them. Viktor says one last thing before he goes down on him:

“When you come, do it on my face again, okay?”

His voice is thick and hoarse before he lowers his mouth onto Yuuri’s cock, swallowing him down with little difficulty. He forgets that Yuuri’s never gotten a blowjob before, and when hands fly to his hair, he pulls off and smirks.

“You can fuck my mouth if you want to, Yuuri,” he says, and Yuuri practically squeaks.

“I mean, I don’t want to hurt you or anything, Viktor.”

“You won’t,” Viktor assures him, pressing kisses to his inner thighs to calm his worry.

When he takes him into his mouth again, Yuuri thrusts gently, like he’s trying to control his movements, but eventually he becomes erratic. His hips stutter, he has to clap a hand over his mouth to push back his moans; the whole apartment complex must know Viktor’s name by now.

“Gonna come soon,” he says, and Viktor tugs him into a sitting position before slipping onto the floor.

Viktor closes his eyes and wraps both of their hands around Yuuri’s cock, stroking it gently.

“C’mon, Yuuri, you can come for me, please-”

Yuuri breaks him off with a bright moan, his head tipping back as he finishes on Viktor face; cum streaking his cheekbones and spilling across his face.

Yuuri opens his eyes and shivers at the sight before him.

“D-did you get off yet, Viktor?”

“Yeah,” Viktor says, his boxers damp, undaunted by the fact that he came so fast, because it’s Yuuri, who wouldn’t?

They shower together to clean up, neither of them getting off; instead, Viktor washes Yuuri’s hair and kisses his forehead and runs his fingers over the dip between his shoulder blades and tells him, over and over again, three little words.

-

For breakfast, they have cereal. Yuuri hums while he pours it, a song that Viktor doesn’t recognize.

He wants to know what it is. He wants to know everything about Yuuri. But he can settle for Cheerios and the kiss Yuuri gives him when he leans over the kitchen table to hand him the bowl.

“What’s your New Year’s resolution, Yuuri?” he says.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri says. “I’ve never really done that sort of thing before.”

“Mine is…” Viktor trails off, thinking over a mouthful of cereal. “To do my best.”

Yuuri laughs.

“That’s too vague. Mine is to try new things.”

“Am I a new thing?” Viktor teases.

“Yes,” Yuuri says, definitively. 

Viktor smiles.

“I changed my mind. Mine is to memorize my lines and to have lots of sex.”

“That’s two.”

“I mean, I could multitask and run lines during sex, but I can’t imagine that’d be helpful.”

“When’s your show?”

“End of January, I forget the dates. I’m Mercutio. The one who’s funny and then dies.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, “I’ve never read Romeo and Juliet.”

“Ever seen the movie?”

“No.”

“Not even the one with Leonardo DiCaprio?”

“Who?”

“Oh my  _ God _ ,” Viktor says. “I’m going to teach you everything there is about being gay. That’s my New Year’s resolution.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says, getting up to put his empty bowl in the sink.

“And Yuuri?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri says, spinning around and nearly dropping the bowl he’s holding.

“I love you.”

And it’s true. He does. He’s never really said it to anyone for real; maybe he’d gasped it out during a one night stand, or said it to some stupid boyfriend over the years, but Yuuri makes him feel in love  _ all the time _ . It’s like he’s going crazy; whenever he tries to focus on something, he thinks about kissing Yuuri, touching Yuuri, fucking Yuuri. And it’s not just physical either. He wants to take Yuuri to the aquarium, and he wants to sing karaoke with him at two in the morning, and he wants to go places with him, to take him everywhere, so that every place reminds him of Yuuri. 

“I love you too,” Yuuri says in response, and even though it’s only been a little over a week, it doesn’t feel crazy.

It feels perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> katsudon't judge me
> 
> hey amanda if you're reading this, i'm sorry i called you gay.
> 
> also sorry i didn't update for like 3 weeks but i didn't have any ideas, if y'all have any requests for future chapters or for separate fics, comment below. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry in advance, i love shakespeare lol

January is nearly over before they know it.

Viktor teaches Yuuri about gay culture and chocolate milk, and Yuuri teaches Viktor his lines, feeding them to him between kisses.

Viktor delivers monologues in the kitchen while Yuuri writes at the table. Yuuri has gotten into the habit of singing in the shower, and Viktor will lean against the bathroom door to catch fragments of songs.

They kiss.

They fuck.

They get by.

And before Viktor knows it, it’s opening night.

He’s never been nervous before, but Yuuri is sitting in the third row, clutching a program with his name on it.

Oh,  _ Yuuri _ .

He’s standing backstage, trembling in his silky, glittering costume, waiting for his cue, and he’s never felt so sick in his life.

His fellow actors come up behind him; Phichit Chulanont as Benvolio and Otabek Altin as Romeo, along with several ensemble characters.

“Viktor, your boyfriend’s cute,” Phichit whispers, and Viktor thanks every God imaginable that Phichit’s mic was turned off at that very moment.

The actresses onstage exit stage left, and Viktor rushes on with Phichit and Otabek.

He’s forgotten his line.

He plasters on a grin and pretends to react to the other actors’ words. Meanwhile, he’s panicking on the inside; lines are getting mixed up inside his head. This has never happened to him before.

And then Otabek has nearly finished speaking, and he feels like he’s going to die, right then, right there.

But then he remembers the way Yuuri would correct his lines, looking up at him through thick-rimmed glasses with an apologetic grin on his face.

_ “Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance,” _ he had said, stumbling over the words, and Viktor repeats it now.

And Otabek scoffs at him before repeating the next line, and all the rest of the words flood back into his head, in order.

The anxiety is slowly trickling from his body, and they get through the back-and-forth with no trouble. By the time he’s reached his monologue, he’s totally fine.

It’s a long speech, and Viktor puts everything he has into it. The audience below him is overcast with shadow, but he can sort of make out a glimpse of Yuuri’s face in the third row. Yuuri’s eyes are shining, bright and beautiful in the dim light.

He wants to keep going, to keep acting for Yuuri alone, to whisper sweet poetic words into his ear night after night, and then-

“Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!” Otabek cuts him off. “Thou talk’st of nothing.”

Viktor responds with a perfect smirk, one he’s practiced with Yuuri’s lips pressed against his own until it felt  _ right _ .

“True, I talk of dreams,” he begins, and the line is finished before he knows it, the words flowing from his mouth beautifully.

He almost doesn’t want to leave the stage, not for a moment, because he doesn’t want Yuuri to take his eyes off him.

They get through most of the play without much fault, and they’ve reached the beginning of Act 3, when Viktor’s about to die.

“Tybalt, you ratcatcher, will you walk?” Viktor says, his head tilted with a grin spread over his face.

He draws his sword.

The guy playing Tybalt’s a kid by the name of Yuri Plisetsky, and Viktor’s  _ so  _ much taller than him, which makes their fight more comedic than dramatic, but they both put their heart and soul into it anyway.

The choreography’s difficult, with plenty of jumps and spins, and they’ve spent hours practicing.

He can feel the tension from the audience; no one can stop watching.

He loves knowing that Yuuri’s eyes are locked on him.

He loves the gasp that comes from the audience when he’s stabbed, as if they don’t know what’s coming.

Fake blood seeps into the glittery mesh of fabric, and Viktor starts choking and crumbling to the ground.

He delivers his last few lines, breathing heavy.

“A plague o' both your houses!” he yells, the words echoing around the theatre.

He exits with Phichit helping him off, and the pure silence from the crowd is unmistakably powerful.

And then he’s done.

He sits backstage, watching the show finish from the sidelines.

He comes out to bow.

The applause is uproarious, and he can see Yuuri standing and clapping, smiling and looking right at him.

Viktor changes and goes to find Yuuri in the lobby.

Yuuri finds him first.

He runs up to him and kisses him right on the mouth.

“You were so good,” Yuuri says, and he’s heard that from ex-boyfriends before, but Yuuri looks like he means it. “That was a lot better than the movie, even though I did like...what’s his name?”

“Leonardo DiCaprio?”

“Yeah, him,” Yuuri says. “But...wow.”

He breathes the last word, just “wow,” and Viktor kisses him again.

They drive to Yuuri’s apartment, and Viktor realizes that he barely ever sleeps at his own place anymore.

“Yuuri,” he says, after they’ve ordered Chinese takeout and are sitting around waiting on the couch. “What are we?”

“Boyfriends?” Yuuri says, blushing.

“I know that,” Viktor says, kissing his forehead. “But are we...living together?”

“I mean…” Yuuri trails off. “If you wanna move in, sure.”

It’s so casual, the way he says it.

And it feels right.

“Okay,” Viktor says, just: “Okay.”

They make out on the couch until the food gets there.

After they eat, Yuuri drags Viktor into the bedroom and presses kisses all over his face, his shoulders, his chest, his thighs.

“You’re so beautiful, Viktor,” he says uncapping the bottle of lubricant and pouring some over his hand. He strokes Viktor’s cock as he fingers himself. He doesn’t need a whole lot of stretching, though. “I was watching you onstage and I knew you were looking right at me and I almost started crying, you were so amazing. So amazing, so beautiful.” A moan slips out at the end of the last word, curving it into a high keening noise. “I love you.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor says. “You’re…”

His voice breaks off as Yuuri rolls a condom onto Viktor’s cock and lowers himself onto it, gasping at the feeling.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Viktor manages, and Yuuri starts crying, tears dripping down his face as he kisses Viktor on the mouth, their lips sliding together in the darkness.

Viktor is crying too, and sex has never been this emotional for him, he realizes. It’s always been fast fucks in a one-night hotel room, drunk sex after some stupid cast party, messy handjobs in the bathroom of a club. He’s never felt this raw, this full of emotion.

He’s never felt this in love.

When he comes, it’s a breathless stream of I-love-you’s and Yuuri’s name.

Yuuri finishes shortly after, his release spilling over their stomachs.

They’re still crying together, and they kiss, tasting like sadness and takeout and love.

Viktor doesn’t know how he got here, but he’s glad he’s here now.


End file.
